Do you really expect us to review Clinomania's Gina Gershon-Claire Forlani dyke romp? It's a self-contained work of mastery, like
Ulysses, or Pat Monahan of Train's recording of "Signed Sealed Delivered" or
Gattaca. Love it or hate it, it is a work that must be FELT.
However, we felt the virtuosity of the writing occasionally got in the way, if you will. As has been pointed out before, Jack straddles the fine line between Greatest Prose Stylist of Our Generation and a crazy guy scrawling nonsense in a notebook. He must focus. We give to him the advice Gertrude Stein gave Hemingway: write another novel, and this time CONCENTRATE.
This line was the best: I'm hungry, and it smells like someone has cooked up some pie." She snuck up behind Gina Gershon and laid her hands on her steaky mams.
What Jack excels at are compressions of words that overwhelm the reader, who cries out "too much!" and laughs as snowball upon prose snowball is heaved at him. Which makes him well suited to written pornography.
